


Wandering Angel

by MaggieMaybe160



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Art, Cover Art, Digital Art, Empty Chairs at Empty Tables, Gift Art, Grief/Mourning, Heaven, Heavy Angst, M/M, Post-Supernatural (TV), Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 13:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17746592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMaybe160/pseuds/MaggieMaybe160
Summary: From a prompt:When Sam and Dean died, Cas was still exiled.





	Wandering Angel

Castiel sits with the small group of hunters. He had been summoned, but instead of a rescue, it’s a celebration. The hunters are celebrating and thanking him for coming to their rescues over the years. Right now, in front of the small bonfire, Castiel is handed a beer that he will not drink.

His eyes are watchful of the party around him and quickly drop to the ground when two people kiss. He sucks in his breath, the sting in his chest a reminder. 

“Who broke your heart?” someone nearby asks. Their tone is half jest, but the words stab into the angel. His eyes close. 

“Dean Winchester.” The entire party goes silent at the sound of the deep voice. The two words sound painful in his mouth. The first time any of these hunters hear the angel of tears speak, it is the saddest sound they have ever heard. A deep voice, scratchy with disuse. 

“Please, Castiel,” someone says gently. “Tell us.” 

There’s a heavy pause as the crowd waits, hungry for the stories that he’s reluctant to relive. He twists the silver ring on his left ring finger. It is the same ring that had once circled Dean’s right fourth finger. 

“There’s a grief that can’t be spoken,” Castiel says, his eyes on the flames. It remains completely silent except for the snapping of the fire, the flames licking up toward the sky that the angel doesn’t dare look up at. Not anymore. 

“There’s a pain,” Castiel looks over his shoulder where his hunter’s car is parked. The black is still gleaming, the silver accents still shining. The memories, preserved with his ongoing care of the now ancient car. “It goes on and on.”

The angel looks back at the full beer bottle in his hand and remembers the times that he sat in the Men of Letters Bunker at the table beside two of his favorite hunters. He remembers the small green cooler that was kept in the backseat of the beloved car, always a war between beer bottles and health smoothies. He remembers the clink of his bottle against Dean’s, the small smile on his hunter’s lips. 

“Empty chairs at empty tables.” Cas whispers, staring into the empty Impala. He can feel the weight of the keys in his pocket. His seat in that car had been any but the driver’s. The driver was always Dean. Forever and always. Except now. 

“Now my friends are dead and gone.” 

 

_ Dean stares up into Cas’ face. His hands are covered in his own blood as he reaches for Cas. There’s blood bubbling up onto his lips as he gasps for breath. Cas can’t heal him. Not this time. He has Dean’s blood on the side of his face and in his hair.  _

_ “I don’t want to go,” Dean says. His eyes are filled with despair. His hand land on the lapel of the trench coat, right over Cas’ pounding heart. He grabs it tight, his knuckles turning white. “I can’t go where I won’t see you again.” _

_ “You’ll see me again,” Cas promises, though he knows he’s lying. He doesn’t know when he had started crying, but his tears are landing on Dean’s cheek. Dean doesn’t seem to notice or care. “If they won’t let me, I will fight for you, Dean Winchester.” _

_ “Cas,” Dean smiles.  _

_ “Dean,” his angel answers breathlessly. He clutches at the hand on his lapel. Their fingers twine together, Dean’s grip tight even as his face pales.  _

_ “I won’t go without you,” Dean chokes around the bood. He coughs weakly and Cas pulls Dean against him. They embrace, Dean’s head against his angel’s shoulder. Dean has his arms wrapped around Cas, his hands tangled into the thick dark hair. Cas is holding Dean against him, unwilling to let his hunter go. “I love you.” _

_ “I love you, Dean Winchester.” Cas presses his lips against Dean’s, ignoring the metallic taste of blood. His hand is on the side of Dean’s face as his warmth fades. Their kiss ends, breath mingling between them, as Cas presses their foreheads together.  _

_ “Cas.” The word is a whispered, final breath as Dean leaves him, his body going limp in his angel’s arms. Cas sobs, shaking and silently begging for Dean to wake up.  _

 

“Here they talked of revolution,” Castiel says, forcing himself out of the memory. 

He sees the bunker again, Sam standing before a concept board, explaining to the group from the apocalypse world what their world was like. He taught them new techniques and explained how they were going to take down Michael. His heart sits heavy in his chest. They called him Chief. Dean hated it. “Here it was, they lit the flame.” 

“Here, they sang about tomorrow.” He recalls every time they talked about a world without monsters, a world that didn’t need hunters, a world they could retire in. A world they never saw. “And tomorrow never came.” 

  
  
  


“From the table in the corner, they could see a world reborn.” With every soul saved, every monster killed, their morale lifted. They were winning no matter how many times the world attempted to crumple and die. They had been there time and time again. 

“And they rose with voices ringing.” 

 

_ Saving people, hunting things: the family business.  _

_ I’m Dean. This is my brother, Sam. We kill monsters.  _

_ Let’s kill some evil sons of bitches and raise a little hell.  _

_ I think what we have here is a miscommunication. We’re not stuck out here with you. You’re stuck out here with us.  _

_ Cas? You got your ears on? _

 

“And I can hear them now,” His blue eyes close, his face becoming a mask of anguish. “The very words that they had sung became their last comunion.” 

 

_ “Dean, no.” _

_ “I am your sword,” Dean says, stepping toward Michael. “Your perfect vessel. With me, you’d be stronger than you’ve ever been. If we work together, can we beat Lucifer?” _

_ “Dean!” Listening to him is a fresh wound with every word. _

_ “Can we?” Dean yells over Cas, obviously feeling the same pain as his angel behind him.  _

_ “We have a chance.” _

_ “You can’t.” Cas wants to reach out and protect his hunter, embrace him.  _

_ “I don’t have a choice!” Dean yells back, his eyes locking with Cas’. They both ache, but he pulls away again. “If we do this, it’s a one time deal. I’m in charge. You’re the engine, but I’m behind the wheel. Understand?” _

 

“Oh my friends, my friends forgive me.” His voice is weak. The intense blue eyes open again, filled to the brim with shining tears. His steady gaze is finally on the stars above him. He allows the tears to spill over, sliding down his cheeks as he looks at the stars, the sky, the heavens for the first time since Dean Winchester died. 

“That I live and you are gone.” His voice cracks and he can feel his heart, already a broken thing in his chest, splintering again. 

“There’s a grief that can’t be spoken. There’s a pain that goes on and on.” Cas’ head falls again, his tears dripping down the point of his nose. His hands are shaking. The bottle of beer drops from his hands and shatters between his feet. Where everyone else around him flinches, he does not. He doesn’t seem to notice his wet shoes or the glass sparkling up from the ground. 

He steps down onto the glass, a cruel crunching under his shoes. He turns and takes a few steps away from the fire toward his hunter’s car. He chokes on a sob and swallows it down, yelling, “Phantom faces at the windows.”

Dean is supposed to be in that windshield, his hands on the wheel. Loud music should be playing. Sam should be sitting shotgun, fighting about the volume while he tries to study. They are supposed to be there, their faces behind the windows of the beloved car. 

“Phantom shadows on the floor.” Dean’s bowed legs, long on his shadow self. Sam’s shadow slightly behind him making them the same height. He lets himself cry. “Empty Chairs at empty tables, where my friends will meet no more.”

“Oh my friends, my friends!” His heart is being ripped from him. He never should have opened his mouth. He’s dropped to his knees, his hand clutching at his chest. His cry echoes as he sobs. 

“Don't ask me what your sacrifice was for.” His voice is raw again, a small sound that is wracked with grief and loss than none at this celebration could ever understand. Not truly. For they haven’t lost and lived on for a century with much more time to pass. They aren’t exiled from their lover’s resting place. They aren’t eternally alone. 

They had sacrificed everything one bit at a time. Sam’s education and career. Dean’s life for his brother’s. Sam said yes to Lucifer. Dean said yes to Michael. Around and around with their imprisonments, demon deals, self sacrifice… and for what? 

The Winchesters may have died, but the monsters persist. The world goes on because they saved it. They saved it countless times and for what? For monsters to pursue and kill? For innocent lives to be lost when their hunter saviors are too slow? For Castiel to watch it live, alone. Alone, dulling the beauty around him. 

“Empty chairs at empty tables, where my friends will sing no more.” Castiel doesn’t bother wiping his tears from his face. 

 

* * * * *

 

Dean’s hands are tight on the device that Ash had rigged up for him not long after he’d died. In the monitor, he can see Cas.

Tears stream down Dean’s face. “Cas!” Dean chokes.

Sam looks over from his seat at his brother. He runs over as Dean screams, “CASTIEL!” 

“Dean, he can’t hear you. He can’t hear you. Dean.” Sam is pulling at Dean’s arms. Ash comes out of his room at the sound of the screams and rushes to Sam’s aid. “Dean!”  
“CASTIEL, HEAR ME!” Dean screams, the words raw in his throat. “I PRAY TO THEE, CASTIEL! HEAR ME! CAS, YOU PROMISED!” Dean’s fingers are pulled from the screen and he goes limp, sobbing as his angel currently is on Earth. “You promised, Cas.” 

**Author's Note:**

> My friend, Sunny, made the wonderful artwork for this! Thank you so so much.  
> They are taking requests on their tumblr. Follow the links to their profiles.  
> [Tumblr blueeyesandpie](https://blueeyesandpie.tumblr.com/)  
> [Ao3 blueeyesandpie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueeyesandpie)  
> [Link to Commission](https://blueeyesandpie.tumblr.com/post/183945074750/i-am-currently-accepting-art-prompts-in-the-form)


End file.
